Reflections of Uncharted Waters
by Casey Smith
Summary: Lee, Chip and Harry's early days and beyond.
1. Graduation

**A/N: **It's come to my attention that the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea fanfiction site 'Uncharted Waters' is no more. The chapters of this story are made up of stories I had posted on UW, beginning in early 2001. I've put them here in chronological order by content, in the order they'd be best read, rather than by the dates they were first posted.

The fact that, in my stories, Lee had a harsh childhood might help explain aspects of this first story.

* * *

**Graduation, **Originally Posted 7/28/03

* * *

Chip ran a comb through his hair and checked himself over in the mirror. He was seeing Julie tonight. It would be one of the last few times he'd see her and the thought saddened him. It wasn't as if a love match were breaking up. But he liked her a lot. They'd had fun and a powerful physical attraction, all either of them wanted at that point in their lives. He graduated in three days and that would spell the end of it as they both moved on.

They were going out tonight but he wasn't in his usual anticipatory pre-date mood. His parent's moods were certainly high. He'd spoken to them yesterday. They'd be arriving day after tomorrow for the ceremonies. They already had reservations at the best restaurant for dinner and Lee had been included in the headcount. Chip hadn't gotten around to extending Lee the invitation yet. He meant to, but somehow it had slipped his mind.

Chip had only been able to talk Lee into coming home with him during leave once but he'd made quite an impression on his family. He'd left all Chip's sisters smitten and his parents thought they had never met a finer young man. That week they had seen a Lee new to Chip. Lee had shed his arrogance at their door. From the introductions, he had been almost deferential towards Chip's mother and father. It had surprised Chip at first, then amused him a bit. He'd resisted an urge to tease Lee on seeing this new side of his friend. Truth be told, he'd been a bit touched seeing Lee's sincere and instant respect for his parents.

His very proud parents. They'd probably made sure that every citizen of his small hometown knew their son was graduating second in his class at the U.S. Naval Academy. They had probably bought enough copies of the local paper with his picture on the front page to send to every out of town relative. He could feel their excitement and pride through the phone lines and it made him uneasy. And it bothered him that it bothered him.

He knew he should just let go and go with the good feelings. Enjoy his accomplishment and revel in how happy they were. He knew he should. He'd had more than his share of big man on campus moments- the limelight of his high school had been focused directly on him. Maybe he'd gotten a little too used to the spotlight and taken it for granted. He'd earned it, though, with every top grade and touchdown. It was wrong to be disappointed with this present success.

But the drive that had carried him this far made it hard to let go, hard to be happy with second place. He'd gotten his hopes up and been disappointed. Again. He'd pushed himself like never before and he'd thought there'd been a chance-minute but possible. Every year for four years he'd thought the same thing and come so close but in the end he'd been burned four times. He was mad at himself and fought the resentment that tried to rise to the surface at this same time every year. The bad feeling would pass, he knew. It always did. It just took a little time to get over it and settle into second place. After all, it was all about timing. If his birth year had been one year off either way, things might have been different. He might have finished first. He knew it shouldn't matter and part of him was ashamed to even think it. But, only one obstacle had stood in his way.

The door opened and Lee Crane walked in dressed in sweats and damp from a run. Chip glanced at him then turned his back and pretended to be checking his tie in the mirror. Lee sat on his bunk and began to untie his shoes. He smiled.

"I smell Old Spice. You must be seeing Julie tonight."

"Yeah."

"I was thinking of calling somebody. You want to meet up somewhere?"

Call somebody, Chip thought. The man couldn't be bothered to build even the semblance of a relationship. No, just like that he'd pick up the phone and call someone at his leisure. Some girls were stupid enough to fall for that lone wolf I-don't-really- give-a damn attitude of his. If life were fair, he'd have at least been born ugly. Chip recalled the glances Julie tossed Lee during their few double dates. True, Julie wasn't stingy with her glances. Or her pats or hugs or conversation-she was a touchy-feely, friendly, outgoing girl. It had never bothered him before, that was just how she was. And he'd never trusted a friend more than he trusted Lee. Still…

"Not tonight. I plan on getting started early on the big goodbye."

Lee was quiet a few seconds before he answered. Chip thought he could feel Lee's eyes on his back.

"Yeah, time's short. I'm going to take a shower. See you tomorrow."

"Okay."

Chip had never turned to face Lee during the whole conversation. After Crane left, Chip cursed himself. He felt small and petty that he couldn't just be happy that both he and Lee had done so well.

But, first place seemed wasted on Lee. He didn't celebrate victories; he didn't seem bothered by the rare defeats. At least not that Chip could see. Lee's gauge of success was wholly internal. It was a part of Lee that both exasperated Chip and forced a begrudging respect from him. Chip had tried to restrain his friend's reckless disregard for the rest of the world's opinion of him. Most of the rest of the world, anyway. A few instructors had earned Lee's respect and Lee had given it to Chip's parents unearned, like a gift. Lee's respect was rare, and his friendship even rarer. Chip sighed. He'd be in a better mood tomorrow. And he wouldn't 'forget' to extend the dinner invitation to his best friend.

* * *

Chip finished his beer and decided it should be his last one if he wanted the evening to end on a high note. He'd already had a lot more than usual. First a couple with dinner at the restaurant Julie had chosen. Due to the efficiency of their waitress, he wasn't sure how many here at the bar Julie had wanted to stop by. He'd been ready to leave much earlier, but she had said the night was still young. Every time an acquaintance came by, which was often as Julie had a lot of friends, she grabbed them and insisted they all drink to Chip's achievement of finishing second in his class. Chip's grin was stretched thin by now. He didn't want anymore toasts in his honor or to be reminded of his great achievement. He was buzzing a little too much and just wanted to take Julie home, enjoy her company privately and relieve some of the dark intensity lurking under the boozy fog.

He reached to pull her close and talk nuzzling into her ear. "Let's go. I've had enough to drink. I'm ready for some-"

"Come on, honey," Julie interrupted him. "You'll be gone in a few days and I'm having fun. Just a little longer?"

Chip sighed and nodded, a bit put out she wasn't more eager to spend more of that short time alone with him. He didn't protest when the girl came by and Julie ordered another round of drinks. If all she wanted was a night out drinking, he might as well let go and go with it. Alcohol induced oblivion wasn't his preferred stress-reliever, but lady's choice. If she wanted to go out with a stagger instead of a bang, so be it.

Twenty minutes later, Chip was looking longingly towards the door when it opened and Lee Crane walked in. Their eyes met only briefly before Chip looked away. Lee turned to exit. But Julie saw him before he made it out the door.

"Lee!"

She was to him and had hold of his arm pulling him towards Chip before Lee could object. "Look who's here, Chip. Sit down, Lee. Have a drink with us."

"Thanks, Julie, but I need to go on. It's late and I-"

"It's still early yet. Don't be a party pooper. Let us buy you a drink to celebrate. You deserve it. And how many more chances will I have to share a table with both the two top dogs at Annapolis?" She giggled and Chip scowled. Lee was shaking his head but Chip spoke before he could respond.

"Sit down Lee. Do us all the honor of sharing a table with the big number one."

Chip's tone was lost on Julie as she maneuvered Lee to a chair. But Chip imagined his message came through loud and clear to Lee. He figured Lee knew all about how petty he was feeling. He'd probably realized after the first year what prompted Chip's moods after finals. Probably took the high road, pretended not to notice and just backed off until Chip got over it. Wasn't that big of him? He could afford to humor Chip; after all he was number one. Condescending top dog throwing the pouting runner up a bone. Chip drained the drink he'd been nursing and headed to the bar for another round.

While he was waiting for the drinks, he glanced over to their table. Julie leaned closer to Lee, talking to him. She had one elbow on the table. Her other hand moved out of sight underneath. Chip knew at most she might have given Lee's knee a friendly pat, if even that. But the devil on his shoulder whispered something different in his ear.

Chip shook his head and groaned. He was mad at Lee, he was mad at Julie and he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. This night had gone on long enough. All he wanted was to go to sleep and wake up and start over. When he paid for the drinks, he asked the bartender to call a cab.

Lee had already left by the time he got back to the table. He sat the three drinks down on the table and pushed one towards Julie.

"Lee said he had to leave. He said to tell you he'd see you later."

"Okay, look I-"

"Is something wrong, he having any kind of problems? He seemed in an awful big rush to get out of here."

"He's fine Julie. He's just as great as usual, okay? But I'm really tired."

"Are you sure? I know he's not the friendliest guy in the world. But he was always nice; we've had some nice conversations. But tonight he was in such a rush."

"Why don't you ask him yourself? If you hurry, you can catch him."

"What?" For the first time since he'd returned to the table, she actually seemed to be paying attention to what he had to say. She'd been too preoccupied thinking about Lee to even hear him.

Chip pulled a five-dollar bill from his wallet and stuffed it into her purse. "Here's cab fare. I've called a taxi. Why don't you cruise by and pick him up. Take him back to your place and you two can talk all night long."

"What the hell are you trying to say?" Julie's temper was flaring and Chip's was rising along with it.

"I'm saying if you're so damn worried about Lee, what're doing here with me?"

For a second Chip thought she was going to haul off and slap him. Instead, she snatched up her purse, turned and stormed out. As he watched her leave, Chip began to feel like a real heel. After he downed the drink he'd bought for Julie, he was feeling a little better. After he drank the one intended for Lee, he wasn't feeling guilty at all. By the time he'd finished the third drink, he realized that he was totally innocent and the only injured party that night.

Chip made his wobbling way towards the bus stop. When he was a half block away, he saw Lee standing beside the shelter and muttered a curse. Chip passed by him and went to stand under the bus shelter, his back to Lee. Lee watched him a minute then spoke.

"What happened to the big goodbye?"

"I got a headache."

Lee's soft chuckle came across as a huge insult to Chip. Mr. Perfect laughing at him. He whirled towards Lee, almost losing his balance. He grabbed Lee's collar.

"What's so damn funny?"

Lee yanked Chip's hand from his collar, a surprised look on his face. He took a step back. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me. Not a damn thing. That's the whole point, you son of a bitch!"

Lee shook his head and his expression turned angry. When he tried to turn to walk away, Chip grabbed his arm to pull him back. Lee jerked his arm from Chip's grasp. "Get your hands off me! I don't know what your problem is but-"

"My problem? You! Mr. know-it-all, do it all, been perfect since junior high. You're my problem. Clear enough for you?"

Chip emphasized his last question by jabbing a finger into Lee's chest. Lee responded by knocking Chip's hand away causing him to stagger a few steps backwards. Somehow, in Chip's drunken but agitated state Lee's response translated into an attack. Or maybe just an excuse.

Because the sight of Lee turning to walk away again infuriated him. Lee was turning his back on him, ignoring his anger and dismissing him as not worth responding to. Anybody else, Lee would have already decked. The last thing on earth Chip wanted was to be let off easy by the high and mighty Lee Crane. He grabbed Lee's shoulder. Just as Lee began to turn to face him again and shrug off the hand, Chip threw an uppercut full of four years worth of smothered frustration. Lee dropped and his head bounced off the curb.

The look on Lee's face instantly extinguished the resentment that had simmered so long in Chip. For a second, Lee looked only stunned and betrayed. Chip was flooded with a shocked shame so intense it halfway sobered him. Then Lee looked furious and Chip wasn't seeing his best friend anymore but the ruthless, wary stranger he'd met years earlier.

Lee never took his eyes off Chip as he pulled himself up and unsteadily stood, leaning into the shelter for support. Chip dropped his arms to his sides, refusing to defend himself against the blow he knew was coming and he knew he deserved. When it didn't come and Lee only glared at him, Chip tried to apologize.

"Lee-"

"Problem solved, Morton." This time Chip knew he wasn't imagining the contempt in Crane's voice. That was dismissal in Lee's voice, total and absolute dismissal. Chip dropped his eyes and Lee walked away. Chip fell onto the bus stop's bench. He began a profane rant against himself that culminated with his fist slamming into the shelter's wall.

* * *

Chip woke up the next morning with an aching head and throbbing knuckles. The physical pain was nothing compared to what he felt when the memory of the night before crashed into his consciousness. Julie and Lee… Chip opened his eyes and looked around the room. He was alone. He sat up and groaned. He couldn't believe he'd been such an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn't been thinking he'd been too busy being an idiot. A drunken idiot. He sighed. He'd make it right. He'd apologize and… Chip remembered the look on Lee's face and the tone of his voice and he cringed. Still, he told himself, he could make it right.

On his first attempt, Julie hung up as soon as she heard Chip's voice. The second phone call, he managed an "I'm sorry" before she slammed the receiver down. By the third call, she was ready to tell him what an ass he'd been and he was willing to listen and agree and ask her to forgive him. She finally did with some indignant reservations. As soon as Chip ended that third call, he called a florist and ordered her flowers. He was relieved he'd settled half his business but worried Lee wouldn't be so quick to forgive. He'd spent all the time he hadn't been trying to reach Julie trying to figure out how to approach Lee. But every imagined mental speech drew the same response from its intended recipient. A cold unforgiving glare. If it had been any of Chip's other friends, he could envision a different reaction. But Lee wasn't like his other friends.

As soon as Chip left the phone, a member of his class called to him in the hall. "Any word on Crane?"

"What?"

"Crane, have you heard how he's doing? What exactly happened to him anyway?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"He got rushed to a hospital last night."

"Hospital?"

"Yeah. Apparently something managed to crack that hard head of his. He was in the infirmary for stitches and something happened and they sent him to the hospital."

Chip rapped on Lt. Harmon's door.

"Come."

"Sir, I heard Lee Crane's in a hospital."

"Yes he is. It seems he tripped and hit the back of his head on a curb. When he went to get it stitched up, he passed out. They took him on over to Mercy. They were afraid there might be some swelling in the brain."

Chip's stomach lurched and he fought not to get sick. "His brain?"

The Lt. nodded and glanced at the abrasions on Chip's hand. "That must've been some fancy wraparound curb he hit. He's got a busted lip and a bruise the size of a fist."

Chip shook his head. "He didn't trip. I-"

"Before you say anything else," Harmon interrupted him, "there are two things I want you to consider. Number one, it would be an awful thing if at this fine institution's graduation ceremony the #1 and #2 in their class were missing. One in the hospital and one in the brig. Hell of a mess there. It might overshadow the achievements of a whole class. We wouldn't want that now would we?"

Chip met the man's gaze but was silent.

"Number two, Crane made it plain before he passed out how he was hurt. He chose what to tell them. Confession may be good for the soul, but if he were to die-"

"Die?" Chip's exclamation coincided with a sudden weakness in his knees.

"Sit down," Harmon said. Chip sat.

"He's not dead yet, Morton. He may be fine. I'm just telling you to think twice before you speak. There's a lot at stake here. At this point, I don't want to know what happened. Later, if it's necessary, I'll expect an official statement." He watched Chip a moment before he resumed speaking.

"You know, Morton, everybody here has wanted to take a swing at him at one time or another, myself included. More people probably would have if it weren't for those golden gloves. That's one thing I'll give him, he's a tough son of a bitch. That curb's probably the first man here to get the best of him in a fair fight."

The words 'fair fight' almost did Chip in. The thought that he could have seriously hurt Lee, damaged his brain or even killed him with what amounted to a sucker punch almost broke him down.

"Go on, Morton," Harmon dismissed him. "I'll let you know when we get word."

Five minutes after Chip left, the phone rang in the Lt.'s office. It was the Academy Superintendent inquiring after Crane. Harmon gave him an update.

"Well, sir, they were worried at first. But it turns out it was just a mild concussion, nothing serious. He gave them a hard time about staying for observation, but I set him straight. He'll be back later tonight and he'll be fine for the ceremonies Friday."

An hour later, Harmon sent for Chip to tell him Crane was going to pull through after all.

* * *

When Chip returned from dinner Lee was back in the room. He was on his bunk reading with a book resting against his knees. A circle of gauze wound around his head and the lower left side of his face was dark and swollen. Lee glanced up as Chip entered then focused back on the book. Chip went to sit at the desk chair.

"How's the head?" Morton asked.

"Fine."

Chip picked up a pencil and tapped it a few times on the desk before speaking again.

"Mom and Dad get in tomorrow. They want you to have dinner with us. They already made reservations. I meant to tell you earlier."

"No thanks."

"They'll be really disappointed, Lee."

"Can't make it."

Chip sighed. He stood and went to look out the window. "Lee, I-"

"I'm trying to read."

Chip turned to face Lee. "And I'm trying to apologize."

"Don't bother."

"I showed my ass, okay? Bigtime. I admit it. Can't you at least-"

"I said don't bother. If it makes you feel better, fine-apology accepted. Now shut up and let me read."

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

Chip was silent a minute before he responded. "That's pretty cold, don't you think?"

Lee didn't look up from his book.

"I feel even worse now," Chip said, anger overtaking remorse. Anger that a friendship so hard won was being tossed away so cavalierly. "Here I was getting all worked up thinking you were a bigger man than me. Not only was I a jerk, I was stupid."

Crane didn't respond.

"One swing, Lee, that's all it was. I was wrong, I admit it, I'm over it. Some of us make mistakes. We're only human."

Lee slammed the book closed. "I said okay, Morton. You're sorry, I get it. What do you want? What difference does it make anyway? Four days from now we ship out."

"Oh, I don't know Lee. Maybe being human's kicking in on me again. I hurt my best friend and I feel bad. I'd like to part friends. I didn't realize as soon as we shipped out all bets were off."

Crane didn't respond. He opened the book back up and looked towards the pages. Chip became angrier.

"And you're going to command people? You're going to be in charge with that attitude? I got two words of warning Lee-friendly fire. Because if you treat a friend this way, how do you expect to handle the screw-ups under you. People make mistakes! It's not an automatic write-off."

"I don't need your advice," Lee said without looking up from the book.

"The hell you don't! You may be number one but you've had a little help here. I've run interference for you for four years. I've tried to knock into you that you can't treat the rest of us as if we were you, because we're not like you. We're only human and I thought somewhere underneath all the hardassed bullshit you were too. And what about when your time comes Lee? And it will because when it comes down to it, nobody's perfect, not even you. I'm not talking about a little mistake. I'm talking about a bigtime screw-up. Something you can't really fix you can only be sorry. Your time will come. And speaking as a friend, which I am whether you like it or not, I hope you'll be easier on yourself than you're being on me."

When Lee didn't respond, Chip's anger waned. He was left feeling awkward and shamed again in it's wake. After all, the whole thing was his fault. Somehow his apology had turned into a rant against Lee. That wasn't what he'd intended.

"Anyway, I am sorry. And thanks for covering for me. And…" Chip's voice trailed off. Lee had given up the pretense of reading and was looking back at Chip, his face unyielding. It wasn't until that moment, seeing that it had been wiped away, that he realized the magnitude of Lee's transformation over the past few years. It had been a change maybe not so apparent to everyone else. Chip knew, though.

It was a change that Chip had led and encouraged. Very hesitantly and subtly at first. A suggestion to let up here, a little advice to back off there. He wouldn't have taken the chance then to flat out tell Lee Crane he was wrong. And, back then, Lee wouldn't have put up with being told how to act. But the more time passed, the less reservations Chip had in expressing himself. Somewhere along the line, he'd dropped all caution and spoken to Lee as he would have spoken to a brother. And somewhere along the line, Lee had dropped his defenses to listen and argue and sometimes learn. Like a brother would, Lee had trusted him. Chip knew it hurt to be let down by someone you trusted. How much worse must it be to feel betrayed by the only person you trusted?

Chip put his arms out palms up in a pleading gesture. Then his hands fisted in frustration and dropped to his side. He said the only thing he could, useless though it might be.

"I'm sorry." He left the room.

* * *

Chip ended up sitting on the banks of a wide creek just off Academy grounds. The last time he'd been there so late and alone was the night he'd returned from his grandmother's funeral. His friends had taken him out that night to commiserate and he'd had too much to drink. Lee hadn't gone with them, though. Lee very rarely drank and never drank in groups with the rest of them. He had made an awkward expression of sympathy but stayed behind while they went out. But it had been Lee who'd come looking and found him there late that night; it had been Lee who'd dragged him back to campus, forced coffee down him and had him able to stand for roll call. Lee had looked out for him like a brother would. Chip was stone cold sober now. There was nothing to dull the sense of loss he felt.

Lee approached so quietly that Chip didn't realize he was there until he moved to sit down beside him. Chip looked at Lee and Lee looked at the creek.

"What restaurant, what time?" Lee asked.

"Star Bay's, 8:00."

"Okay."

Chip couldn't believe he'd been let off that easily. "Okay what?"

"Okay I'll be there."

"Okay," Chip said. He could see Lee's face in the full moonlight, but couldn't read his expression. Chip waited for Lee to say something else but he just kept watching the water. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not. Maybe Lee wasn't forgiving him, just putting in an appearance for the sake of his parents.

"Well…?" Chip finally said, not quite ready to ask a question whose answer he might not like.

"Well," Lee said, "remember when Carmichael messed up the whole competition for the squad?"

Chip nodded.

"Remember I tore him a new one for screwing up and you tried to tear me a new one later."

Chip nodded again.

"If I recall, your exact words towards the end of the 'conversation', were 'It's a sorry son of a bitch that can't cut a good man some slack when he makes a mistake.' Remember?"

"I remember."

"I never liked Carmichael."

He never liked Carmichael. What the hell did that have to do with anything? When Lee stood and began to walk away Chip scrambled up to follow him "Wait a minute!"

Lee stopped and turned to face Chip.

"So, are we good or what?" Chip asked.

"We're fine except for one thing," Lee said. He pointed to his bruised face. "A straight story to tell your mother when she asks about this."

Chip hadn't thought about having to explain Lee's injuries to his parents. He winced at the implications of telling them the truth. Chip shrugged.

"We tell them a drunk jerk sucker punched you. No one we know, of course. Just some drunk jerk."

"And that?" Lee pointed to Chip's right hand. Chip looked down at it. A couple of knuckles were split and swollen and most of the top of his hand was scraped and bruised.

Lee shook his head. "Me with this, you with that-there's really only one thing we can tell them."

Chip sighed. Lee was probably right. It wouldn't be hard for his parents to put two and two together. Maybe honesty was the best policy but it would skew the dinner conversation way off a celebratory track. It would be a shame for his parents to waste reservations and money at the best restaurant in town. They might as well go to a Waffle House to hear what a dope their son had been. How proud would they be after that?

"We'll keep it simple. You took him out with one punch and we left before the cops were called," Lee said.

"What?" That didn't sound like the confessional scenario Chip was dreading.

"The drunk jerk that hit me-you knocked him out. We better add that he was coming around when we left so your mother won't worry you killed him or something."

"So, I saved you?"

"I didn't say you saved me. I would've gotten up and taken care of myself. You just beat me to the punch."

"I don't know Lee. Don't you remember, the guy was huge. And in your weakened condition…" He stopped when Lee scowled. He'd forgotten himself in his relief and realized maybe Lee wouldn't appreciate his good humor. He'd been forgiven by Lee and his parents would stay proud and now wasn't the time to push his luck. Chip shrugged. "We'll just tell the story and let them draw their own conclusions."

"Fine," Lee said and began to walk back towards campus. Chip smiled and fell in step beside him.


	2. Duty

**Duty,** First Posted 4/30/01

* * *

**duty ****1. **An act or a course of action that is required of one by position, social custom, law, or religion: "Do your duty to your country." **2. **a. Moral obligation: "acting out of duty". b. The compulsion felt to meet such obligation.  
_-The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language _

* * *

The young man leaned into the pool table, took a couple of practice pulls and sank the 8 ball into a corner pocket. He straightened, returned the cue to the rack and glanced towards the bar's door. He was dressed in a pullover and chinos; a blue eyed crewcut blond. He took his beer to the jukebox and turned the knob, idly flipping the pages. He glanced to the door again and grinned.

Just inside the entrance stood a tall, thin man. He was in his early twenties; his hair black and cut short. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans, a motorcycle helmet under one arm.

"Lee, over here," Chip Morton called out. Lee Crane smiled and went to join the friend he hadn't seen in almost a year.

Chip took Lee's hand to pump it and slapped him on the arm. "The big man himself! How are you Lee?"

"Fine. You?"

"Great. Come on, have a seat."

They took a table and ordered a pitcher of beer.

"So what happened?" Chip asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I get a note saying you'll be passing through on your way to a new assignment. According to my math, you still have six months left on your old one. What gives?"

"It's a new intensive cross-training course for junior officers. Seems they're a little short of qualified applicants at the moment."

"Qualified applicants for what?"

Crane sighed. "Sub school."

"Sub school? When I told you I was thinking of giving it a shot, you said-"

"I know what I said," Lee interrupted. "And I meant it. I didn't join the navy to sneak around in the dark crammed into a sardine can with a hundred other men."

"So..."

"It wasn't my idea. It was strongly suggested to me that if I wanted to make full Lieutenant before retirement, sub school was the way to go."

"By who?"

"Captain Taylor."

"What did you do Lee?"

"He was wrong. He's standing there spouting off the wrong specs and statistics to a bunch of senators who make decisions-"

"Lee, you didn't."

"All I did was correct him."

"In front of senators?"

"Doesn't matter. It's almost worth spending a few years sunk to be out from under Taylor. Arrogant son of a bitch."

Chip looked at him a second then burst out laughing.

"What?" Lee asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just a little thing about pots and kettles and glass houses and-"

"I was right."

"Okay, Lee. Watch this. Learn this lesson."

Chip held his left hand, palm up, out to his side. "This is you being right."

He held his right hand out, also palm up.

"This is the eagle pinned to Taylor's collar."

He see-sawed his arms as a balance scale for a second then dropped the right hand almost to the floor while the left one went over his head.

"Get it? It doesn't matter who was right. Choose your battles better, Lee. Those senators were probably thinking of dinner or their girlfriends while he was going on. You've got to learn when to keep your mouth shut. A little tact."

"I never was much good at kissing ass."

"No man who joins the service has a right to complain about ass-kissing. It's mandatory, enforced by federal law. Just think of it as discretionary deployment of intelligence. The better you make them look, the sooner you make it to the front of the line on the receiving end."

"I was right."

"Yeah? Well, being right landed you in a submarine." Crane winced and Morton laughed. "Cheer up, big man. Maybe it won't be so bad."

* * *

Captain Harriman Nelson sat behind his desk aboard the submarine Nautilus. Open on his desk was the file of Lt.j.g. Lee B. Crane who stood before him now, reporting for duty.

"Impressive report from training, Lieutenant. It seems they can't praise you enough. But, then, that's to be expected from a man first in his class at Annapolis. Rather in contrast to your evaluations aboard the Constellation."

Crane didn't respond.

"You left your ship for training. A tour usually isn't interrupted for volunteer schooling."

Still Crane was silent.

"Care to explain, Lieutenant.?"

"No Sir."

The Captain raised an eyebrow and gave an order.

"Try again, Crane"

"Lt. Commander Stallworth evaluated me as he saw fit. Captain Taylor encouraged me towards the training."

Nelson smiled. "I'm familiar with Captain Tayor. So, you were encouraged. Without that encouragement, would you have chosen the training for yourself?"

"No, Sir."

"I see. Nonetheless, you've shown quite an apptitude. See that it's put to good use."

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Lee Crane began his career as a submariner.

It didn't go unnoticed by the crew that, within weeks of his arrival, Lt. Crane's watches became synchronized with the Captain's. Among the boat's other junior officers there were a few resentful comments. Some quickly condemned nasty innuendo. Most remarks, though, were of the relieved "better him than me" kind from Ensigns and Lieutenants who preferred to serve their watches and make their mistakes under someone other than the Captain.

Crane began to take every opportunity to question Nelson and learn all he could of the boat's operation and the Captain's experience. Eventually their conversations carried past duty hours to the wardroom or, more rarely, the Captain's cabin where a book or chart was offered to expand an answer or clarify a point. Crane's promotion to Lieutenant came through.

Six months after Crane came aboard, the Nautilus and her Captain were called upon to assist the Office of Naval Intelligence.

Their target was a remote island in the furthest corner of the South China Sea. Named only as an island, not a country, it was bisected by a river a half mile across at it's widest point. At sometime in the past, the leader of the people living on the west side of the river had had a falling out with the leader of those living on the east side. Their personal animosity escalated into a tribal feud. Over the course of several generations, two separate cultures had evolved, gaining identity and cohesiveness from their superiority over and disdain for the people across the river.

For ages, the island had been ignored by both the prosperous and predatory nations of the world. The present climate had changed, though. Any place, no matter how insignificant before, was a potential domino that had to be converted or captured before it's fall to the enemy perpetuated a collapse that led to catastrophe on the home front. It's strategic location added to it's sudden significance.

The enemy of the United States was the first to make overtures. Not realizing the chasm the river represented, they went first to the leader of the west bank with their proposals. Negotiations were brief and an alliance was formed. When they crossed the river to strike a deal with the east-siders, they used their neighbor's compliance as their first selling point. That bit of information had an effect opposite than the one they intended. No deal was made.

Once U.S. intelligence got word an alliance had been struck with their enemies, they dispatched representatives to bring the east side into the fold. An agreement was made and small arms were provided to keep the balance of power even on either side of the river. All was well until word came that there was a possibility that heavier artillery may be installed on the west side of the river. There was the chance of a cross-river invasion. Hard facts were necessary before any response could be decided.

Lt. Commander Nick Buschetti was the ONI agent assigned to the mission. Captain Harriman Nelson, a munitions expert, would evaluate any weaponry found. The plan was to use one of the submarine's crewman as the third member of the landing party. Nelson chose Lee Crane.

In general, the mission was to confirm that there was a munitions compound, identify the weapons there, disable what they could and get exact coordinates of the location in the event that further action was necessary. From Nelson's cabin aboard Nautilus, Com. Buschetti detailed the specifics.

"We enter the west beach here," Buschetti pointed to a spot on the map spread over Nelson's desk. "The shore is less guarded than the river. Our information is that the compound is approximately ten miles inland from the landing point. We haven't been able to pick anything out by air. If it's there, it's well camoflagued. The idea is, hit quick and quiet. We don't want to push their hand. They see us coming, they could be lobbing shells over the river before we step off the boat."

"There was a skirmish at the river. We haven't been there to check the site, but it sounds like they were trying out their big guns. Testing the waters. Our guys had nothing but standard issue. These things usually end with a few wounded, maybe one dead on a bad day. This time, six eastside dead, twelve wounded. They were definitely outgunned. We just don't know how outgunned."

"We have a definite rendevous time for the pickup. They won't wait. We're not there, they assume we're captured." He pulled a military radio from a satchel. "We'll have these. They can send and receive scrambled transmissions. The bad guys may not be able to decode the message, but they can get a fix on our location. Optimum conditions, we get the information and make the rendevous. We don't find the target within an acceptable time frame, we retreat and try again later. If we get the information and miss the rendevous, we try to make it across the river. If we can't make it to the river, we use the radio to relay the information. Last resort."

* * *

They set off on their mission. After searching for hours and with precious little time to spare, were on the verge of abandoning the attempt when they came across the compound. They gathered their information, set time delay charges and headed for the rendevous.

Lt. Crane was walking point. Behind him sounded a creak, a whoosh and then the scream of a dying man. Crane turned to the sight of a section of jungle floor raised to a 45 degree angle, teetering then settling back level, unseen. Nelson and Buschetti were gone.

"No." Crane whispered. He'd taken two steps when the top of his boot touched a wire too fine to be felt through the leather. A pole of green bamboo whipped loose, freed of it's tension. The stake at the end of the pole caught Crane in the flesh below his left shoulder. The force carried him in an arc until he was thrown loose of the stake, onto the ground.

He swore a pained curse, his right hand flying to the wound.

Then, he got to his feet, found the rifle he'd lost in the trip, and went to the edge of the trap he'd seen closing on it's prey. He knelt there a second, breathing heavily.

It was a pit trap, a large one. A hole in the earth, 10'x10', eight feet deep. It was covered with a camoflagued bamboo grid hardly distinguishable from the surrounding jungle floor. The cover could see-saw, allowing the victim to fall in and the top to drop back into place. No sound had come from inside since the scream.

Crane held his breath as he reached to slowly raise the end of the cover.

The pit's floor was embedded with sharpened bamboo stakes. They ranged in height from a foot to almost a yard. Buschettti had tumbled in and hit on his side, impaled, stakes protruding from above his hip and ribs. Nelson had fallen almost flush with the pit wall, only his right thigh caught by an angled stake. Buschetti was dead. Nelson was alive.

Crane released the breath he'd been holding and rushed to get branches to prop the pit's cover open. After he had the top secured, he pulled a rope from his backpack. He tied one end around his waist. The other end he made into a loop and dropped into the pit. He lay prone, his shoulders even with the edge of the hole.

"Captain, take the rope. Can you pull yourself off the stake as you're coming up? Do you need to cut it?"

Nelson pulled the looped rope under his arms. "No. I don't think so. Just pull."

Lee rose, took the rope in both hands and pulled, backing away from the pit. Slowly, Harry was pulled free of the stake and up the earthen wall. He made it to the edge and dragged himself free. Crane fell to his knees and half-crawled, half-stumbled to drop beside Nelson.

"How Bad?" As he asked, Crane pawed through the backpack pulling out bandages and antibiotics.

"Bad enough. I-" The Captain saw Lee's torn, bloodstained shirt. "What happened to you?"

"I must've tripped a wire. Can you walk?" Lee poured powder over Nelson's wound as he spoke and wrapped it hurriedly, both his breathing and speech rapid. Blood that had run down Lee's arm began to seep out from under his sleeve onto his left hand, staining the bandages as he worked. "We have to get out of here."

Crane stood and went to remove the branches that had held the trap door open. He gave a last glance to Buschetti and let the cover fall. He tossed the braches away and went back to reach down to Nelson.

"Slow down, Lieutenant. We have to take care of that or you won't get far. Hand me the bandages and take off your shirt."

Nelson winced as he poured an antibiotic powder on the wound. It was a jagged tear, flesh ripped away and gaping. He bandaged it and Crane put his shirt back on.

"Okay, Sir. Ready now?" Lee reached down to help Nelson to his feet. As soon as the Captain put weight on his right leg, it gave way under him. Nelson swore under his breath and checked his watch.

"You have to go Crane."

"Yes, Sir." When Lee reached down again to help Nelson to his feet, Nelson pushed his hand away and shook his head.

"You have to go. Now. Alone. It's pushing it as it is to make the pickup."

"But..."

"That's an order, Lieutenant. They have to have the information. You're hurt, you've lost a lot of blood. Once the adrenaline wears off you'll have a hard time making it alone. There's no way you can make it in time with me. Do your duty, Crane. Go."

Lee stared at him a second then went to pull on his backpack and retrieve his rifle. He stood there a minute, his back to the Captain. He turned to face him.

"The river's only 20 miles away," Lee said.

"It may as well be a thousand. In our condition, through enemy territory. Once those charges go off, they'll saturate the area. There's no telling what they smeared on the ends of those stakes. We could die of an infection before we ever made the border. You have to go, Crane. There's no other way."

"There is."

"Now, Lieutenant. Go! That's an order."

"But, there's a better way."

"I didn't ask your opinion, I gave you an order."

"Would you just listen-"

"I misjudged you, Crane. I thought you had the guts to-"

"This isn't a flooded compartment, Sir! There is another way!"

"One more word, one more second's delay, if by some miracle I do survive, I'll have you up on charges."

"Fine," Crane answered. When he leaned to reach again for the Captain, Nelson put his boot on Lee's chest and shoved him off, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"One man's dead already. You want to be a hero, Crane? Justify it! Finish the mission. You lay a hand on me again, I'll consider it an assault. Failure to obey an order, dereliction of duty, battery on a superior officer."

"You tempt me, Sir." Crane rose, clutching his injured arm.

"You listen to me-"

"I'm not the one trying to be a hero here," Lee cut him off. "The mission will be done. With a chance for us both to make it out alive."

"That's not a chance I'm willing to take."

"I am. And, as you've made clear, my career will be over. I have very little left to lose here, Sir. Whether I assist you out of this jungle or drag you unconscious is your choice. We're wasting time." He extended his hand. Harry glared. Finally he took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled up and supported.

They didn't speak as Crane led them to the edge of the jungle where the shore began. He took the ONI radio and a roll of electrical tape from the backpack. "I'll be right back."

Nelson watched as Lee ran straight into the open across the beach to the edge of the water. He was a perfect target for anyone in sight distance a mile either way.

"Damn fool," Harry whispered. He grabbed the rifle and held it ready, scanning the beach.

Crane spoke into the radio, listened for a response. He wrapped tape around it then threw it into the surf. He ran back to Nelson's side.

"They have the coordinates, they know the weaponry. Mission accomplished." Nelson let himself be pulled to his feet and supported by Lee. "It should keep transmitting awhile. Maybe they'll think it came from a boat."

They moved without conversation, towards the river, until neither was able to continue. Crane drank from his canteen, laid down his backpack as a pillow and was asleep within minutes. Nelson pulled rations from his pack, ate, then followed suit.

Harry woke first the next morning. He winced as he moved to sit up. He took a drink then looked to Lee.

"Crane, wake up."

Lee stirred. Nelson watched as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, his left arm pressed into his chest.

"Come here. I should have wrapped that yesterday." Lee did as he was told and Nelson wound the bandages around his back and chest to immobilize the arm. He put a palm to Lee's forehead. He shook his head. "After you eat, go find a branch I can use as a crutch. We need to get moving."

By early afternoon, Nelson on his crutch was outpacing Crane. Dusk was an hour away when Crane collapsed. He lay on his side, his right hand gripping his left elbow. Nelson came to stand by him and extended a hand.

"Get up."

"I can't."

"The hell you can't. Get up."

Crane shook his head. "Go."

Nelson put a boot on Crane's hip and pushed him onto his back to face him.

"On your feet, you son of a bitch! You started this. You'll damn well finish it!"

Crane looked up to meet the eyes staring down at him. He took Nelson's hand and was pulled to his feet. Crane put his arm over Nelson's shoulders and Nelson put his arm around Crane's waist.

"Come on, Crane. One foot in front of the other. You can do it. We've got to be close."

For the better part of an hour, Lee did manage to walk, leaning more and more into Nelson. Before the hour was up, though, his feet dragged the ground as Nelson very slowly made way through the jungle. Nelson alternately cursed and talked to himself and the unconscious man at his side. Just as dark fell, they emerged from the jungle, in view of the river. Harry tightened his grip on Lee's waist and went to his knees.

"We made it Lee. We made it."

* * *

Due to Crane's transmission from the beach, there'd been a lookout for them. They were found laying side by side on the riverbank. When he was asked later how he'd managed to cross the river, wounded, with an unconscious man in tow, Harry had no answer. He explained that the last thing he remembered was making it to the enemy's bank and the sight of the other side. Doctors attributed the loss of memory to shock.

At first, the doctors hadn't expected Crane to survive. But, defying their expectations, his infection responded quickly to antibiotics. He was weak but conscious the second day after treatment began. The fourth day he was moved, sedated, to the room Nelson already occupied. The fifth evening, both men were declared fit for a formal debriefing by the ONI agent who'd come to the island for that purpose.

It was SOP to question operatives separately. But, here it wasn't practical. Neither man was fit to be moved. Commander Davis set up a tape recorder and invited Nelson to begin.

This was the first day that Crane had been alert, free of sedatives. He listened without comment from his bed. Nelson spent hours telling his story and answering Davis' questions. Nelson voiced his intention to pursue charges against Crane. As he listed those that applied, Davis glanced to Crane, then back to Nelson. Lee's expression hadn't changed.

When Nelson had told all he could, the Commander turned to Lee. "Your turn, Lieutenant."

Lee shrugged. "The Captain covered it all. There's nothing else to say."

"There's got to be something else, Lieutenant. That's why we try to question agents separately. Different point of view. Different take. Sometimes facts-"

"No, Sir," Lee cut in. "Nothing else."

Davis glanced once again to Nelson and back to Crane. He sighed. "Very well, then. I'll file the report. They'll sort this out. If a hearing is scheduled-"

"A hearing isn't necessary, Sir."

"Lieutenant..."

"It's not necessary. I waive any right to a hearing. Go ahead , Sir. Keep that thing on and I can give you a statement right now."

"Crane, you don't understand the way it works."

"Sir, I'm guilty as charged. I won't argue otherwise at any hearing. Especially against Captain Nelson. I..." He paused.

"I meant him no disrespect."

Davis turned off the tape recorder and returned it and his notes to his briefcase. He stood.

"That's all for now, gentlemen. We'll get back to you. Sir." Davis nodded in Harry's direction and left.

When he had gone, Crane turned to his right side and fell asleep. Harry lay there awake for quite a while longer.

* * *

The next morning, on their breakfast trays, were a deck of cards and a dog-eared, seven month old Time magazine. Harry had made a request the day before for any English language reading material. They ate in silence. Afterwards, Harry retreated behind the magazine. Lee took the deck of cards and laid out a game of solitaire. He glanced over at Nelson a few times. Nelson never looked up from the copy of Time.

Finally, Harry set the magazine aside and reached for a glass of water. Crane indicated the magazine. "So, Sir, what's new in the world?"

Nelson started to answer, then saw Lee's smile. He shook his head. "Not much."

After a few minutes of silence, Harry reached again for the Time. Lee's voice stopped him.

"I read a book in school, I forget the name. A Western. There were these two men, friends from way back. But, they'd gone different directions. One man had turned horsethief. The other man was in the posse after him. The posse catches the rustler and his friend helps hang him. He might not have wanted to hang him. But he had no choice. At that time, you stole a horse, you hung. And the horsethief didn't hold it against him. The one man had to do his duty. The other guy accepted the consequences of his actions."

"You didn't steal a horse, Lee. You saved my life."

"We're even on that score, Sir. And the principle's the same. Fortunately, mine weren't hanging offenses. Anyway, my point is that they were talking right till the end. They say we're here another week. It'll be a long week sharing one magazine and staring at the walls."

Harry looked at him a moment, then sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"

* * *

Two days later, a native nurse entered their room pushing a wheelchair. She wheeled it next to where Crane sat and motioned for him to get in. "Blood test," she said.

Crane stood and took a few steps past her. She grabbed his arm and pointed again towards the wheelchair.

"I don't need that. I-"

"Blood test!" The nurse was shaking her head, gesturing to the chair, speaking the only English words she'd been given.

"Ma'am, I can walk."

Nelson smiled. "Get in the chair, Crane. Let the lady do her job."

Lee scowled but sat in the chair and let himself be pushed from the room. A few minutes later, a man in a navy Captain's uniform entered.

"Tom! What the devil are you doing here?"

Captain Thomas Holloway, ONI, smiled. "Good to see you again too, Harry." He took the seat Lee had occupied. "How're you feeling?"

"You didn't come all the way here to ask me that."

"No. I came here because we're old friends. And I read the report. So did the higher-ups. Word came back down to me to go have a chat with my old pal Harry. Offer a suggestion."

Nelson snorted.

"No, really. A suggestion only. No pressure. We will not overrule you on this. You're right. A Lieutenant can't pick and choose when to obey a Captain. Can't run a navy that way. It would be chaos."

"But...?"

"But, hell Harry, except for that one detail, he'd be up for a medal. Number one in Annapolis. He's got guts, smart as a whip. Thinks on his feet. And, misguided or not, he showed alot of integrity during and after the fact. A man like that's not going to sell secrets or go down under pressure. It seems a shame to throw him out. He's just the kind of man we need in intelligence if we could just knock a little fear of God and Leavenworth into him."

"We could have both died. If there's a next time, the result could be disastrous."

"I know, Harry. Believe me, I understand. It could go either way. We wouldn't turn him loose until we were as sure as we could be he'd learned his lesson. The thinking is, we train him, use him awhile. Ease him back into the regular navy. We're building up a reserve there. Call them up when we need them. The report hasn't been officially filed yet. We can cut it down to "mission accomplished" and seal it. Or we can let it stand and convene a court martial. Your call."

Harry was silent a minute then nodded. "Alright. You realize this could come back to haunt us."

Tom smiled. "Life's a gamble, Harry. I'll go read him the riot act. How do you want to play this? Did you give him a break, or were you overruled?"

"Overruled."

* * *

An hour later, Crane was wheeled back into the room. He allowed the nurse to assist him out of the chair and into his bed. He looked at Nelson.

"I just left Captain Holloway. He said he'd already talked to you."

Harry huffed an indignant 'humph'. "Yes, he did. Apparently ONI's need for agents outweighs the necessity for discipline and accountability in the navy."

"I didn't-"

"Save it, Lieutenant. This came down from on high. Someone's mistaken your arrogance for ability. I, unlike you, accept an order from a superior whether I agree with it or not. They want you, they've got you. Heaven help them. Just be grateful you've gotten a second chance. Don't waste it."

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright, then. It's settled. There's no reason to discuss it further."

"Yes, Sir."

After a few minutes of silence, Nelson wheeled his chair to Crane's bed and turned the bedside tray so that it was between them. He took the deck of cards from on top and tossed them to Crane.

"Deal, Lieutenant."

Lee smiled. "Yes, Sir."


	3. Round One

**Round** **One**, Originally Posted 8/1/05

* * *

**A/N: **'Duty' was written without revealing the characters' thoughts. 'Round One' is a scene from 'Duty' with Nelson's thoughts added.

* * *

Captain Harriman Nelson sat behind his desk aboard the submarine Nautilus. Open on his desk was the file of Lt.j.g. Lee B. Crane who stood before him now, reporting for duty. Harry was getting his first look at the man described in the perplexingly contradictory evaluations that made up the dossier.

Crane was tall, thin and dark. He was in ramrod attention stance with his eyes straight forward focused on the wall above Harry's head. His chin was held up a bit too high, disrupting an otherwise picture perfect form. Harry could easily read an attitude of defiance there if he chose, concurring with the majority opinion contained in the file. There remained the minority opinion, however, that the lieutenant was the best the navy had to offer. It was unfair to judge a man based on an introductory posture. Still, he didn't set Crane at ease or offer any welcoming pleasantries before getting to business.

"Impressive report from training, Lieutenant. It seems they can't praise you enough. But, then, that's to be expected from a man first in his class at Annapolis. Rather in contrast to your evaluations aboard the Constellation."

Crane didn't respond.

"You left your ship for training. A tour usually isn't interrupted for volunteer schooling."

Still Crane was silent.

Though Crane hadn't moved a muscle, the defiance Harry thought he may have first imagined was fast seeming a real disrespect. And, Harry's annoyance with the unresponsive silence was fast approaching anger. He kept his voice even, though, to ask a question.

"Care to explain, Lieutenant?"

"No, Sir."

The response should have triggered Harry's temper. But his reaction was tempered and trumped by his surprise. He'd taken too much undeserved needling from his peers not to be surprised that Crane stood there absolutely unintimidated. Harry had been told, repeatedly, over drinks in officers clubs that his reputation preceded him. The Nautilus wasn't the preferred choice of first posting for newly minted junior officers. Harry always shrugged off the suggestion he was too harsh or demanding. He only demanded excellence and how could he expect any less?

He demanded excellence and he refused to suffer fools in his command. For Crane to toss a gauntlet at the feet of his CO upon first meeting was undeniably foolish. But, foolish as it was, it was in refreshing, almost admirable, contrast to the reportees who seemed to quake before him. Harry was proud of his crew. They were, on the whole, a competent and strong group. But, not one man among them had ever stood his ground so undaunted before their Captain as Crane stood now. Refreshing or not, though, it just wouldn't do. He had to be set straight straightaway.

The Captain raised an eyebrow. "Try again, Crane."

Harry growled out the command in the tone he'd perfected early in his command career, guaranteed to have a wilting effect on its unfortunate target.

Crane showed no sign of wilting, though. He didn't flush, flinch or waver. He only answered as evenly and unconcernedly as if he'd been asked the time of day.

"Lt. Commander Stallworth evaluated me as he saw fit. Captain Taylor encouraged me towards the training."

Nelson smiled. The small smile escaped him in spite of the situation. Suddenly unreeling in his mind's eye was a comedy of Taylor trying to handle the implacable statue that was Crane. The pompous idiot red-faced and verging on apoplexy. Standing toe to toe with the young lieutenant who only withstood the tirade, refusing to react. Maddening, but never quite subordinate enough to bust down or out of his hair. So, apparently Taylor had pulled some strings to pass his headache on to someone else. Harry stifled the smile as quickly as it had come and shut off the movie playing in his head.

"I'm familiar with Captain Taylor."

Harry paused, inviting further explanation, watching for any reaction from Crane. There was none. He supposed it was to Crane's credit he didn't use the opening to expound upon his situation aboard the ship and Taylor's shortcomings. He seemed a no excuses type, which Harry always respected in a man.

"So, you were encouraged. Without that encouragement, would you have chosen the training for yourself?"

For the first time, Crane reacted. His eyes, only his eyes, moved down to find Harry's before he answered.

"No, Sir."

Harry had been watching Crane's face, studying him. The sudden contact jarred Harry, caught him off guard.

The words were blandly spoken and Crane's face was still stone. But, the intensity and depth of the glare aimed into Harry spoke volumes. Disdain, anger and something both striking and intangible swirling underneath. Crane broke the connection after a few seconds and slid his eyes back to their previous position. Harry watched him, trying to decipher the force he'd just felt. After a full minute of silence, it was obvious Crane would offer no more clues and Harry would learn no more from this first encounter. Harry moved to end it.

"I see. Nonetheless, you've shown quite an aptitude. See that it's put to good use."

He voiced it as an order, in no uncertain terms, and a stern warning.

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

After the door shut behind Crane, Harry lit a cigarette. He looked down at the stack of papers purporting to judge Crane. He flipped the file closed and shoved it aside. Neither the opinions in the file nor his own first meeting gave much indication of where the truth of Crane lay. A solid read of Crane's character would take time.

It could prove elusive even for Harry. He was an excellent judge of character with a gut instinct as reliable as a compass. His first impression of Crane, though, was ambivalent. There was no doubt of his strength. Golden gloves and his record at Annapolis proved it. Harry would have thought it also proved an intelligence at least bordering on brilliance. Yet, he was stupid enough to turn his introduction to his CO into a pointless confrontation. A lesser man than Harry could have ignored any future potential and curiosity of the man's true nature and only taken Crane on his surface. It would be too easy for Harry to pick up the gauntlet Crane had dropped between them and beat him down, safe behind a shield of superior rank.

Harry chuckled softly as he again imagined Taylor trying to handle Crane. Encouraged him toward the training indeed. Harry would have loved to have been a fly on the wall during the encouragement. Insubordination and disrespect were no laughing matters, though, and would not be tolerated on his boat. Neither would parries or confrontations, no matter how skillfully done.

Crane would soon learn to automatically defer to him as navy discipline demanded. Harry would take the lieutenant down a notch or two, put him in his place. He'd reserve judgment on the man until he could see what good might lurk beneath the bad attitude. Harry had no doubt he could set Crane straight. And, if the man refused to be set straight, Harry could soon enough send him on his way. Straight out of the navy if need be.

Confident he had the situation under control and satisfied with his wait and see decision, Harry opened a drawer and tossed Crane's file inside. He closed the drawer then opened another. He pulled a bottle and glass out and poured himself a drink. Whatever else he was, Crane seemed a rare type man. He recalled the power of Crane's glare and the unreadable depth beneath it. At the very least, discovering what composed the core of Crane's character presented an interesting challenge. It was a challenge Harry was more than up to. He tipped the glass and downed the whiskey then smiled. It was a challenge he welcomed.

Lee Crane began his career as a submariner.


	4. Asteroids

**Asteroids**, Originally Posted 2/15/07

* * *

Harry watched his two senior officers walk across the bar's floor toward an alcove crammed with pinball machines and video game units. He shook his head and leaned back into his chair. He'd been on the verge of intervening when Lee had acquiesced and they'd made their way to do battle. What was Chip thinking? Goading Lee, who wasn't fully recovered, for the sake of a silly game. This was supposed to be a relaxing evening, a night out together before they parted ways while Seaview made her slow way home to undergo repairs. Lee had only just stopped wearing the sling on his right arm and most likely should still be wearing it. Lee had tried to beg off, but Chip's insistence had bordered on the ridiculous.

Harry saw that Chip seemed to be angering Lee, provoking him in some way judging by the look on Lee's face. Chip put his hands underneath his armpits and flapped his 'wings' in the classic, taunting chicken stance. Though Chip's back was to him and he couldn't hear from across the room, Harry cringed as he imagined 'brawk brawk' noises aimed at Lee. He wondered if Chip had been drinking in his room before they all met in the hotel's lounge. If they'd been in uniform, Harry would have intervened right then. As it was, he thought he'd have a talk with Chip about conduct unbecoming an officer whether in uniform or not.

Harry watched Lee nod angrily then the two took their turn at the console, both their backs to him. He sipped his drink, trying to calm the growing anger he felt towards Morton. After a moment's reflection, he decided it wasn't his place to try to protect Lee from Chip. And how could he harshly judge Chip over such a trivial matter when, so recently, his own obstinance had almost killed Lee? A friendship of that long a duration worked itself out on its own. He had no real grounds to interfere. Distasteful as it was, it was between Chip and Lee, not his business.

And, as far as business went, he had no complaint. The two of them meshed seamlessly as a command team. Anyone not knowing their history together would never guess how their relationship changed once they changed into civilian clothes. Harry had thought he knew Chip well as both an officer and, more importantly, as a man. He was seeing a side tonight of Chip Morton that surprised him. A side he didn't care for.

He could well enough understand the competitive spirit that may exist between them. And, he wouldn't begrudge Chip some pleasure in besting Lee at something in which he enjoyed a decided and rare superiority. Still, it seemed childish and inconsiderate to want to crow over Lee, especially now. And, over something as inconsequential as an arcade game. Harry had watched one of their bouts once on Chip's home unit. Black and white, gray triangles and blobs- just an updated, imaginary shoot 'em up. The technology, though, was promising. Nelson had begun applying it to prototype training simulators with excellent results.

Under different circumstances, Chip's thoughtlessness and immaturity probably wouldn't have bothered Harry so. But, they were all still dealing with the aftereffects of a disastrous mission, Lee more so than the rest. He hoped it was just his acute concern for Lee that was feeding his growing wrath towards the XO. Not some new side of Chip revealed that would permanently damage his opinion of him. Because Chip had always seemed to have a fierce, almost protective loyalty towards his friend and CO.

His typical concern had shown itself a few days earlier. Morton had come to Harry's cabin for his signature and lingered to converse. While that was the norm for Lee, it was rare for Morton. He had mentioned that Lee had turned down his offer to accompany him home to visit his family. Morton had voiced his opinion that this was one of those times Lee needed help to 'untangle' as Morton put it. And, being in the midst of the happy mayhem that his family reunions became really wasn't the best atmosphere for Lee right now. What he thought best for Lee was a little sailing, maybe a few strong drinks to bring him outside himself and the right company. As he listened to Chip, Harry had wondered if he and Will had come to their conclusions independently or conspired.

For, the night before, Will had had his own chat with Harry about what was best for the Captain. He was forewarning Harry that, under his authority as CMO, he was going to order Lee off Seaview during the last leg of her trip back to homeport. There wasn't much he could do to keep Lee away once he and Seaview were home. But, he'd at least have the week to get some distance from the events of the last mission.

He hoped he had Nelson's support. And, his job of getting the skipper off Seaview would be made easier if he could tell the Captain that Nelson would also disembark for a break when they put into next port. Which, Will had added, was advised from a medical standpoint. Nelson might not have the physical injuries Crane had. But, there were undoubtedly stress issues that relaxation might help resolve. While he couldn't order the admiral off Seaview, he strongly suggested it.

'Stress issues', Harry had thought to himself, stabbed with a pang of guilt and anger, was an understatement. Harry vehemently crossing swords with Lee. An esteemed colleague revealed traitor. Then Seaview damaged, Lee injured. And, the long hours unsure of the survival of either.

Will had been right, though. Thinking it over, he'd decided a trip to his lake house could do him good. And, Lee too. Perhaps offer an opportunity to clear the air between them. Lee had, as always, shrugged aside Harry's perfunctory _mea culpa_ saying it was no one's fault but Havilland's.

But, Harry wondered if some of his harsh words and ill will still haunted Lee's thoughts as they did his own. If, this time, Lee was assigning unvoiced blame. Perhaps deservedly so, but still uncharacteristic for Lee. Outside a more subdued and solitary air, Lee had given no indication that was so. Harry realized it was possible that it was only his own unusually sharp sense of regret that came between them. That was his hope.

It would be nice to be at the lake. Both his and Lee's first love was the sea. But, the lake would be a welcome change of pace. If any unvoiced trouble between them did exist, it would reveal itself and be resolved given time together.

And, so, he'd called Lee to his cabin and told him since they were both ordered away, why not come to the lake with him? Lee had thanked him for the offer but declined with a vague explanation of 'things to do'. If Chip and Will had hoped to throw them together, their planning had been for naught.

"You may be right," Harry had told Chip that day in his cabin. "But, Lee has already declined my company."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Harry had frowned then nodded, braced for Chip's voice to join the chorus of recrimination sounding in his head.

"He's declining the world right now. I hope you don't think your…" Chip paused, "disagreements are the reason."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Just par for the course, if I may say so sir."

"Par for the course?" Harry's temper surged. "That I defended the wrong cause? Par for the course that, if I'd deferred earlier, a disaster could have been avoided?"

"Sir, Dr. Havilland was on the short list for a Nobel prize. There's no way you could have known. And, even with all that happened, it's still a good thing he was exposed. I hate to imagine the consequences if he'd made off with the technology and his reputation intact. I'm just saying it's to be expected that you and Lee would butt heads. This time, maybe harder than usual."

Harry shook his head, remembering their last altercation. And, the awful realization, after Lee was hurt and Havilland exposed, that those harsh and angry words might be the last ever spoken to Lee. He sighed.

"That's putting it mildly. And, you can't speak for Lee as to whether or not it influenced his decision."

"You're right, sir, I can't. But, either way, I still think –"

"It doesn't matter," Harry interrupted him. "Lee's turned me down and that's the end of it for now. "

Chip hesitated as if considering taking it further. But, he gathered the papers and answered simply with an "Aye, sir" and left.

Harry lit a cigarette and looked over again to the two of them. How to reconcile that familiar Morton with this one who, at the moment, was pumping his fist in the air in victory? Chip pulled a bill from his wallet. He handed it to Lee and motioned him toward a long line at the bar then returned to the table and sat.

He smiled at Nelson and inclined his head in Lee's direction. "Sore loser."

Harry looked at Lee. Even from a distance his exhaustion showed. He was holding his wounded arm close into his side as if in pain. Pain probably aggravated by Chip's insistence he used it in a pointless competition. The self-satisfied grin on Chip's face further angered Harry.

"Proud of yourself, are you?"

Chip didn't seem fazed by the note of contempt in Harry's voice.

"Sir, what do you think the odds are? How likely that, in this one measure of tactics and dexterity, I'd consistently wipe the floor with Lee? All through the Academy, we were neck and neck on just about everything, evenly matched. Even though he nearly always managed to edge me out in the end due to just pure hardheadedness."

The odds, now that Harry considered them, were high. Especially considering that Lee was the more usual victor in the tests of the more advanced simulators.

"I'd say it was unlikely."

"To say the least, sir. " He glanced over his shoulder to see Lee still in line. "He's taking a dive, a long one. For about the last 20 years or so."

"What do you mean?"

"Somehow, back at Annapolis, Lee must've gotten the idea that it bothered me always coming in second to him."

"Somehow?"

"Well, sir, I will admit to the possibility that my actions may have hinted towards that conclusion." Chip smiled when he said it but hurriedly continued speaking, preventing any further inquiry of the matter.

"It took a while to dawn on me, years. But, looking back, it started right away. Then, the first time we met back up, suddenly I was better at pool than him. Way better. The games have changed as time's gone by but I'm always able to beat him at something. Pool, darts, Asteroids. I kept hoping golf would make the rotation, but no such luck."

"When I first figured it out, I wasn't too happy about it. I can hold my own against Lee without his help. Then I thought maybe it was kind of a nice gesture in a dumb, clumsy way. But, I wasn't young and stupid anymore and my ego grew up along with me. It was condescending and I was going to put a stop to it next time I saw him. Until I realized the pattern and the potential. He's like clockwork, a five to one ratio. I guess he figured he had to throw a win in somewhere in the pattern to keep it believable. So, every sixth time, he wins. And, he sticks to it, no matter what's on the line. "

"On the line?"

"The wager. That's the potential, sir. I tested the waters before I went for the high stakes. The man is absolutely scrupulous. It's like some kind of warped code of honor- he's not going to deviate from the pattern."

"He tries to make a gesture on your behalf, misguided though it may be, and you've used it to cheat him all these years."

"From my perspective, sir, he's the cheater. I've just competed to my ability and reaped the rewards of my efforts. Mostly just a beer or dinner here or there. Sometimes, though, the stakes are higher, much higher. But, my conscience is clear. "

Harry was about to tell Chip what he thought of him when Lee appeared with fresh drinks. He set Harry's drink before him. Chip's drink he placed in the middle of the table, forcing him to lift slightly from his seat to reach it. Chip frowned and shook his head and muttered under his breath as he drew his glass in. Lee sat and then spoke without looking at either of them.

"Admiral, I've reconsidered. And, I've changed my mind." He gave a sidelong glare in Chip's direction. "I'll go to the lake."

He didn't sound at all happy at the thought, hardly resigned to it. Chip was still frowning down into his drink. But, when Nelson glanced his way and their eyes met, a small smile briefly replaced the scowl

"Try not to let your enthusiasm overcome you, Lee," Harry said.

Lee looked angered then annoyed. Then he sighed and slumped down into his chair and only looked drained. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Admiral." He smiled. It seemed rather a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I'm going to call and change my flight then turn in. Goodnight."

Chip watched him walk away. "He's really ticked this time." Chip shrugged. "Oh well, he'll get over it."

Harry was relieved that he and Lee would have the opportunity to work things out. If, in fact, such 'things' existed outside his own guilty conscience. Then he recalled his righteous indignation directed at Chip just moments earlier.

"It hardly seems right he be forced this way." Harry said.

"It's for his own good," Chip said. He stood. "Have a good trip, sir. I'll see you next week."

After Chip left, Harry sipped his drink, shook his head and smiled. He should have known better than to doubt Chip had Lee's best interests at heart. He wondered how many times Lee had been angered over wagers lost 'for his own good'.

Twenty years. Twenty years was a long time. He'd have thought Lee would have realized, at some point, that games weren't necessary to sustain either Chip's ego or his friendship. And Lee, Harry knew all too well from personal experience, wouldn't normally concede an inch to any man. That same Lee Crane giving any man the control of a pattern set in stone? Old patterns were hard to break, true. Still, it didn't make much sense to Harry. It was obviously a real and unexamined fact to both Chip and Lee. But, as Harry sat there and thought about it, he decided there had to be more to it than what it seemed on its surface. However it had begun, it had evolved into something else.

Just as his thought process turned toward the analytical, he recalled the conversations with Will and Chip that had led him to ask Lee to the lake. It was a solution he might have come up with himself without prompting. He had to admit, though, before they'd spoken he'd been willing to let the whole thing slide and hope for the best.

Now that he stopped to consider it, there were other times Chip had made an offhand comment or veiled suggestion that had sparked a change of course between him and Lee. Subtly turned Harry, like a compass, toward a better direction. He wondered if there was a possibility there had been times the manipulation had been so subtle as to go entirely unrealized, even on surface reflection. He began to search his memory deeper but stopped almost as he began. Almost certainly not. And, even if so, what difference did it make, now?

Harry finished his drink and glanced over to the video games glowing and blinking across the room. He frowned. Then he shook his head and smiled. Lee would be at the lake and how he came to be there was really of no consequence. And, when navigating an unfamiliar and unmarked path, there was no shame in relying on a compass.


End file.
